


Sunshine, Bees, and My Pecan Trees

by dontcryMasha



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Castiel, Castiel and Bees, M/M, Mark of Cain, Original Character(s), Rape/Non-con Elements, Top Dean, ugly stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 03:15:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4505577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontcryMasha/pseuds/dontcryMasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean decides that heading down south and living alone is the best way to deal with the Mark of Cain. That way, Sam and Cas aren't in danger of him killing them and they won't have to put him out of his misery. Desperate to find another solution, Cas keeps researching until he strikes gold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunshine, Bees, and My Pecan Trees

**Author's Note:**

> There is a little bit of Dean/female OC, non-con stuff in this. Some ugly stuff, some brutal stuff. This is really just a beta version so I will probably update it someday, it's just been sitting here since season 10 ended (I wanted to publish it the day of the finale, but I didn't have the attention to proofread). I figured to hell with it and just publish it already. We'll see.

  
  
The south was a place that Dean did not know well. He had been on a few occasions, but in general that kind of life style was alien to him. He knew a handful of movies and books, even songs that talked about it, but that was all. So when he decided to head that way, there was a significant amount of adjusting to do, but all in all it wasn’t that bad. Given a happier occasion, it would have been enjoyable.  
Pasture, plains, trees…  
Miles of these landscapes rolled on and on as Dean drove to his new life. It had been a quick and painful decision, but he was optimistic, even though the memory of leaving Sam and Cas behind was fresh on his mind;  
“I’ve been thinking about what you said.”  
Dean came into his brother’s room with his hands in his pockets. His face was serious, very serious, and Sam listened attentively especially since he hadn’t seen Dean for a few hours.  
“Cain manages all right, but he lives alone. He does his thing. Alone. So, maybe…”  
Sam made a small noise. He knew what was coming.  
“I’m just saying,” Dean continued, “I know it’s not ideal but this whole thing isn’t to begin with.”  
“But where would you go?” asked Sam.  
“Funny you should ask,” Dean said with a weak chuckle. He leaned against Sam’s desk and spoke with his hands open. “I did actually do some research on this. You remembers those hunters, long time ago, who lived down in Georgia?”  
“Georgia?”  
“Yeah. Well the dude just died about a month ago, and she’s looking to leave the place. I dunno. Guess I got lucky with the timing.”  
“But Georgia? You can’t possibly be serious. You know it’s hot down there.”  
“I know. Look, what other choice do we have?”  
“You can learn to control the Mark and stay here. I’m sure you can. We’ve managed to get through everything else together. We’ll find a way, we’ll find a cure.”  
Dean sighed. “I don’t think it’s gonna work out that way. Not this time.”  
“Are you sure?  Won’t there be other people living in that town? There’s no place you can go that’s totally alone.”  
“The house is on a big piece of land. I can isolate myself.”  
“Dean, stop and think about this.”  
“I already did.”  
Sam sighed now. “You can’t just up and leave overnight!”   
“Why not?”  
“Because it might be the last time I see you!” Sam snapped, this time sounding a bit angry.   
“Anytime might be the last time!” Dean rebutted. “The longer I stay here, the better chance I have at hurting you, Cas, or anybody else. I can’t do that. I can’t do it again! If I stay around people like I do now, I know it’s gonna happen. And if I can’t control it, you’re gonna have to kill me. If I run away and live alone, sure we won’t see each other but we’ll both be alive and I won’t hurt anyone else.”  
Sam’s heat diminished and he looked at Dean with sadness. So much sadness. He had known that saving Dean wouldn’t be easy, but never seeing him again?  
“You’re right,” Sam admitted in a tired voice. “What about Cas?”  
“I can’t have anyone come with me.”  
“Not even an angel?”  
“Not even an angel.”  
There was a sharp painfulness to Dean’s voice just then. He took his eyes off of Sam and darted them to the floor, visibly tensing his body while his jaw was clenched several times.  
“I’m sorry,” said Sam, as if to imply the depth of hurt losing Cas would cause Dean. But Dean pretended like it was the least of his problems.  
“I’ll call you when I make it,” Dean said shortly.  
 “So this is it?” asked Sam.  
“I still have to pack.”  
Dean left suddenly and Sam just stayed there, sitting on his bed with a blank look on his face. Things were moving too fast for him. Was Dean actually going to disappear forever?  
“Hoh!” As soon as Dean turned out of the bedroom, he bumped into Cas.  “What’re you doing standing—damn it, were you eavesdropping?”  
“I’m sorry,” Cas apologized quickly.   
“I told you not to do that. If you want in on a conversation, just ask.”  
“Right. I’m sorry.”  
“It’s okay.”  
Cas put his hands together nervously. “So then, you’re going?”  
“Yeah,” was Dean’s weak admittance, “That’s it. Gone. Done. But it’s for the better, I know it.”  
“I agree,” said Cas. “I think you will learn to cope with the Mark just fine. Are you sure you don’t want Sam to come? Or me?”  
“I know it hurts, but I’m sure.”  
The less time Dean spent looking at Cas’ face, the easier it was to move on. Not only did he pack up all his personal effects, but he also stowed away those feelings he had been harboring for the last six years. Every scenario of, “I love you, Cas,” disappeared like a flame being blown out. If he actually mustered up the courage to admit those truths, he would be doing Cas a disservice since it would only end in more pain with his absence. It was a cruel reality that they faced, but once Dean was ready to leave, they had agreed completely that it was for the better.  
“But you will call, won’t you? Or at least write?” Sam asked.  
“Sure. I will. And I mean it. Might not be from the phone I’m staying at, but I’ll figure it out. Promise.”  
“Okay…”  
The last bag went into the Impala’s trunk and Dean went around to the driver’s side, where Sam and Cas were both standing, looking like Dean was rather getting into his coffin.  
“Take care of each other now, okay?” Dean asked.  
“We will.”  
“Looks like we all got a chance to live the lives we always wanted, so don’t mope too much.”  
“Right,” said Sam. His lower lip trembled. “Maybe someday after you’ve settled in, we can come visit.”  
“Maybe.”  
The three stood in silence for a moment, then Sam and Dean exchanged a tight hug.   
“I’ll miss you,” said Sam.  
“Me, too.”  
The hug was both too short and incredibly long. Neither of them wanted to let go but they had to, then Dean moved on to Cas and looked at him shyly.  
“You’re the number one Sammy-watch now, got it?”  
“I got it.”  
“Just don’t do anything stupid.”  
“I won’t. Or at least I’ll…try not to.”  
“Heh. Right.”  
Dean cleared his throat loudly. There was much that he wanted to say but he dared not speak a word of it. Then Cas did what he was hoping and went in for a hug. Dean joined it immediately and pulled him close. He inhaled that sweet musk for the last time and tipped his head against Cas’.  
“I’m going to miss you, Dean,” Cas whispered, “Every day.”  
“Me, too…”  
Now that was a hug that Dean never wanted to leave. It was the perfect reflection of what he really wanted out of life—Cas forever.  
“I’ll miss you,” Dean sighed just before letting go. The three of them exchanged a few more goodbyes before Dean got in the car and drove away for good…

 

* * *

  
  
Getting to his destination required a lot of off-the-beaten-path driving. There was a town on the edge of a forest, which had a gas station and a grocers (Dean assumed he’d be visiting often). There were also a few tiny restaurants and of course residences. The main road went through the entire town, but if you veered off at a dead-end street between a mechanic’s and a pawn shop, you’d face a little dirt road that cut through the woods. A beat up sign nailed to a tree read, “Hucksaw, 2m.”  
When he finally arrived in the farming community which would become home, Dean was pleasantly surprised. What made the village unique was how self-sufficient it was. They had very little electricity, which would take some adjusting for Dean, and the folks all made their money by selling their goods and produce to a vendor that came every week. It was certainly the opposite of how Dean had lived up until then, but even as he went down the main dirt road and saw the acres and acres of land each house had, the Mark was feeling lighter.  
It was a village of maybe fourteen homes and most of them were older folks. Dean didn’t see any children while he drove through. Of course everyone poked their heads out and came onto their porches when the Impala arrived. It didn’t take long before he was flagged down by an old woman.  
“Son, son!” she shouted, waving her hand. Dean slowed and motioned at her as friendly as he could.  
“Hey…”  
“Are you here to take the Wilkerson’s place?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Ah! Then you are the new boy!”  
“Yep, that’s me. I’m, well, I’m Dean.”  
For a moment he wondered if he should use his real name, but he quickly agreed that it didn’t matter either way. He stuck his arm out of the window and shook the woman’s hand.  
“Nice to meet you, Dean. I’m Betty, Betty Albemarle. My husband Joseph is out with the cattle. We got a son but he moved out a’course. They all do.”  
Great. Betty was one of those talky people.  
“But it’s awful nice to see a young man like you moving in,” Betty continued. “Nope, we don’t see many new people. Sure don’t. Do you know where you’re going? Know where the Wilkerson’s place is?”  
“Uhhh…”  
“Last house at the end of the lane. Nice folks, though quiet. ‘Shame to see them go, I tell you what. Are you planning on keeping up with the farm?”  
“Think I have no choice.”  
“Glad to hear it! Oh, I’m glad to hear it! They’ve got a real nice plot. A real nice plot of land! Used to have life stock but they gave all that up a few years ago—don’t ask me why. We sure loved the Wilkersons but they must have been up to some odd stuff!”  
“Yeah, well.”  
One of the thoughts Dean had while he drove down south was that maybe the whole village was a bunch of hunters. Clearly that wasn’t the case. He smiled and nodded and tried to get away from Betty’s yakking.  
“I gotta move in,” he said quickly. It would be a little too rude of Dean to say he needed to be left alone.  
“Right, right ‘course you do. Don’t mind me, not trying to keep you from your business. Now if you need anything, oh I say anything, just give us a knock and we’ll come. That goes for all the folks ‘round here. I think, if you’re any kind of social or nice guy, you’ll get on just fine.”  
“Nice to meet you, Betty,” was all Dean said, just before he drove on down to the house at the end of the lane. He thought to himself, “Please, please leave me alone, and don’t let anyone else be as talky.”   
The Wilkerson’s old driveway must have been at least two hundred feet long, and it went up to the nicest, sweetest little house Dean had ever laid his eyes on. It was made of wood, two floors with a porch in the front and a chimney to the back. Sally Wilkerson surely left in a hurry since it still looked occupied—laundry was hanging on a long line off to the side and decorations were still nailed to the porch.  
Dean got up to the front door and noticed a lot of salt here and there. The front door had various sigils painted thinly. He squat down and picked up the floor mat to find it poorly covering a devil’s trap. “Nice touch,” he remarked to himself. The key to the house was taped in the center of it.  
“Guess this is home now.”  
The first thing Dean saw when he walked in was the staircase going up, and more protection sigils painted on the wall beneath. A window was to the right and the left went to an open kitchen and tiny dining room. The Wilkersons had left all of their crockery and things behind, which was great for Dean. He hadn’t even though about that, somehow. Poor planning but a streak of luck like that would turn it around easily.  
 Around the back and on the other side of the stairs was an interesting door. Dried herbs were hanging from the threshold and Dean simply couldn’t resist. Inside was not only Bobby Singer-esque with dusty books everywhere and notes thumbed all over the walls, but there was a desk and a cabinet of many tiny drawers  containing well organized and labelled supplies that a hunter might use—goofer dust, cat bones, dried plants and the like. They hadn’t cleared those out. Dean wondered if there were any surprises hidden around the house. The Wilkersons surely had a stock of guns and weapons, but they would have taken those, right?  
Upstairs was a tiny hallway that only went to one door (a bookshelf was up there as well as some miscellaneous tchotchke) that led into a modest bedroom. It had two windows, one that faced the side and the other looked over the farmland behind the house. There was a queen-sized bed with white sheets and fluffy pillows, nightstands on either side, and a solid oak dresser with a mirror on top against the wall. It was comfortable. Very comfortable.  
After examining the house thoroughly, Dean moved to the land. It stretched for a long distance. He felt slightly overwhelmed by it all, but hey; at least the Wilkersons had been taking care of it up until they left!   
They had many rows of vegetables and fruits. Dean strolled down them casually and noticed that they were in dire need of care and plucking, since there was an overabundance of ripe produce that was rotting on the ground and some weeds sprouting up here and there. But that was a good thing, right? Working the land would take Dean’s mind off the Mark and everything he left behind.  
To the side of all the vegetation and going towards the back of the land were the livestock quarters; a barn, a stable, and what looked like chicken coops from the distance. Dean checked all of them just briefly to make sure nothing was alive inside. The space was substantial, though, and a whole lot of animals could easily fit.  
The farm went all the way back to the woods that surrounded Hucksaw. Dean thought it came closer than he originally thought, but when he examined the trees closer, he saw that the Wilkersons had an orchard in the back. Peaches! Pecans! Not a bad surprise. Dean took a few fruits back to the house with him and upon sampling one, realized that it may have been the best discovery yet.

* * *

  
Dean told himself he would use the first day to relax and not think about how to farm land. There was a lot to get used to; the wood burning stove, the year-round heat, the farm and most of all—being completely alone. Speaking of, he sat down at the dining room table and took his phone out to call Sam.  
“No service. Great. Should’ve seen that coming.”  
His eyes darted around the room and quickly. Maybe there was a landline? He got up and started searching. Nothing downstairs, nothing upstairs, but he forgot about the hunter’s resource room. On the desk, there was a black princess phone collecting dust. He lifted it off of the receiver and thankfully got a dial tone.  
“…Hello?”  
Sam’s unsure voice answered and a rush of relief zoomed through Dean’s body.  
“Hey. It’s me.”  
“Oh, man. I’m glad to hear from you. I tried calling your cell because you should’ve made it by now.”  
“Yeah, well, turns out I get no signal down here. Cell’s useless.”  
“Damn. All right. So where are you calling from?”  
“The landline here.”  
“Do you know the number?”  
“Uh, no. But I’m calling, so you should.”  
Sam cleared his throat. “No, actually,” he said. “It came up as a private number.”  
“Great,” Dean said with a sigh. “So I can call you but you can’t call me.”  
“That’s what it looks like. But at least we can stay in touch. How is it?”  
“Not bad, all things considered. I think I might manage. How’s Cas?”  
“I haven’t talked to him. He’s staying in his room.”  
“Oh…”  
Dean felt a lump growing in his throat. The thought of Cas isolating himself surely because he was depressed made Dean wish he could go back.  
“Dean?”  
“Yeah…”  
“The Mark?”  
“Nothing yet.”  
“Good.”  
“Yeah, I’d say. But we’ll see. I’m trying to stay away from the people here.”  
“Do what you have to.”  
“I know. I will. Just…just be there for Cas, okay?”  
“I am.”  
Dean grunted. “I mean really be there. Don’t let him get too depressed.”  
“I know.”  
Knock knock knock!  
“Shit.”  
“What?”  
“Someone’s at the door. I’ll call you later.”  
“Okay…bye, Dean.”  
“Bye.”  
Dean hung the phone up stiffly and went around to the front door. “Now what?” he thought. Looking through the peephole he saw a guy of about his age standing on the porch. He opened carefully.  
“Uh. Hi.”  
“Hey there,” said the stranger. He was a little shorter than Dean with a skinny body and dark features. “Dean, right?”  
“Yes…”  
“The name’s Ross. I live at the house across the street from you.”  
“Oh. Okay. Listen, Ross, I sorta—“  
“I know you’ve got a lot to do, since you’ve just moved in and all, but I wanted to invite you to our poker night.”  
“Poker night?”  
“Yeah. The fellas get together every Thursday at my place and play cards.”  
“I think I’ll pass.”  
“Aw, c’mon now, Dean. Don’t you want an official welcome to the guys?”  
Dean tightened his jaw. “I’m here to get away from people, to be honest.”  
“Oh,” Ross said with a slow nod. “Guess I can’t judge, but all right. Offer’s still open if you want in. I won’t walk back on that.”  
“Thanks.”  
“Take care now, Dean.”  
“You, too.”  
Dean closed the door and groaned. Why did the people here have to be so fucking hospitable? He probably could have figured that out by the basic structure of the town, but still. He certainly didn’t attend the poker night, and he went to bed early so he could get up and work in the fields before it got too hot.

* * *

  
The sun began to come up around 5, so Dean set the alarm clock to 4 thirty. He wasn’t used to the old fashioned kind that rang by hitting a hammer between the two bells, so he really startled awake. The fact that he got a full night’s sleep was a miracle in itself. After the ringing was silenced, he got washed up (this was an irritating process, since the water heater was small and quite ineffective) and went out to the farm.  
All of the plants needed water, he assumed. There was a watering system there that used a series of hoses connected to rain collecting barrels. If those ran out, he’d have to go to the river at the end of town and fill them up. Fun stuff.  
It took about an hour and by then the sun was starting to creep up over the woods in the distance. Dean went down each row of vegetables with a wheelbarrow and a basket (luckily they had a ton of supplies in the livestock quarters, and Dean could improvise his way into anything he needed), one for ripe produce and another for nasty, rotted out ones. There was a compost heap way in the back that the rotten pieces went. The rest had to go back home. Dean wondered how long they would keep. What sort of system was implemented to make money when the vendor came?  
Either way, it was midday now and Dean was starving. All he had, provided he didn’t go into town on the other side of the forest, was the produce he had picked. Nothing greasy, nothing delicious. This was incredibly disappointing, but he was so hungry that it didn’t matter. Maybe it would be better for his Mark detox, anyway.  
“Mr. Dean?”  
A voice called out at the front door while several gentle knocks rapped. Dean got up from his, sigh, steamed peas and squash, and opened it up. Betty, the chatty old woman he had met the day before, stood there with a pie in her hands. Dean was always happy to see pie, but this was a new level of happiness.  
“I’ve made something for you,” she said happily, holding the pie out. “Now I know you’ll get tired of peaches, a’course, we all do, but there are certainly a lot and it’s what we deal with.”  
“I don’t think I can get tired of pie,” Dean said. He smiled real big and took it from her. “Thanks, Betty.”  
“No problem, and I mean no problem at all. We don’t get many new folks here so we certainly want to help them out. Just as I said before, if you need anything at all, come ‘round and we can help out.”  
Dean nodded. “Thanks.”

* * *

  
“Hey…Cas?”  
Sam quietly opened the bedroom door and peered inside. Cas was sitting on the edge of the bed, arms folded, eyes fixed on the floor. He didn’t stir when Sam came in.  
“How are you doing?”  
“I miss him so much,” Cas said in a particularly dry and weak voice, “And I know that he misses me. I can feel it.”  
“I’m sorry,” Sam apologized. He took a seat beside Cas and smiled at him sadly. “I really think it’s better for everyone, though. We just talked on the phone and he sounded good. Better than I’ve heard him in a long time.”  
Cas closed his eyes. “You’re right,” he admitted. “Isolation, peace, freedom, hard work, natural food…these things will help him. Perhaps I’m being selfish.”  
“How?”  
“Dwelling on our loss.”  
“But you said he misses you too, right?”  
“He does, but for how long? Surely those feelings will pass.”  
“Maybe.”  
Cas looked at Sam finally. His eyes were flat and almost grey. “We aren’t done helping him,” he said.  
“What do you mean?” asked Sam.  
“We can continue to research the Mark. Perhaps we have missed something still, and there is a way that we can bring him back safely, or we can move down there.”  
“It’s worth a shot.”  
“Then we’ll keep looking.”  
“Deal.”  
The research continued in their downtime. Cas’ mood improved just enough so that he could crack the books once more. A third car had been acquired and Sam went out to check a place several miles over (he had received information about it from another hunter before Dean left), leaving Cas alone with the current books.  
He went through nearly dozens, scanning for words that might suggest Dean’s ailment. This had been their main focus for months already and going back to it was tiresome. Cas didn’t mind, though. He kept telling himself that there was a fix hidden within the struggle.  
 Then he found a book that might possibly hold the solution. It was a longshot and Sam had likely passed over it since it never occurred to him that it could hold the key.   
Cas took the thin book from the shelf and held it open, staring at the cover. The very touch resonated generations of Men of Letters shunning it. Old, red leather had words pressed in gold that read, Sexual Appetites of the Dark Forces.

* * *

  
After the first week, Dean was adjusting fairly well. Vegetables were starting to taste less crappy, waiting twenty minutes for hot water was slightly more tolerable, and best of all the Mark wasn’t bothering him. Ross must have told everyone that Dean wasn’t too keen on company, so for the most part, nobody came around to bug him. Well, nobody except for Marietta.  
She lived with her mother two houses next to Dean’s, on the other side of Betty’s. She was barely legal and probably bored with the slim pickings of young men in Hucksaw, so Dean was fresh meat and quite intriguing.  
“Hi, Dean,” she said one day, coming by with a button-up tied to show off her midsection. She did most of the farm work and was in great shape, even though freckles covered most of her once-fair skin. “Mom’s been making jam today and she told me to bring you a jar.”  
“Oh. That’s nice of her. Thanks.”  
Marietta held out a mason jar with dark preserves inside. Dean took it with a courteous yet brief smile.   
“You’re welcome,” Marietta said, batting her big eyes beneath a swath of chestnut hair. She put a hand on her hip and jutted her waist out a little. Dean had to admit she was quite busty. “Are you coming to poker night?”  
“Nah, don’t think so. But why do you care? I thought it was guys only.”  
“Well it is, I just heard that you didn’t go last week.”  
“Yeah, see, the thing is that I’m not exactly here to make friends.”  
Marietta sucked her cheeks in. “I kinda noticed that. Why?”  
“Trying to get away from my past.”  
“Oh.”  
“Yeah…”  
The girl learned close to Dean and whispered, “Is it a woman?”  
“No, nothing like that. Listen, I don’t want to talk about it.”  
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.”  
“It’s fine.”  
“I guess I’ll see you later.”  
“Yeah. See ya.”  
He closed the door with a sigh and immediately opened up the preserves. They smelled good. Blackberry, maybe? Dean took a scoop with his thumb and smiled. They needed bread. He needed bread. All of this healthy produce was going to make him a stick. Perhaps it was time to head into town and pick up some groceries. “Nah,” thought Dean, “They’re probably closed by now.” Things out there didn’t stay open very long.  
Looking out of the front door, Dean could see lights coming on at Ross’ way down across the street. The Mark was being good. Maybe he should go and check out poker night?  
“Hey, Dean! Glad you made it!”  
Ross gave him a warm welcome when he showed up, then invited him inside the house. It was a little bigger than Dean’s but more worn out.   
“Here’s my maw and paw, but let’s just go to the poker room in the basement.”  
“Sweet.”  
Downstairs was a dusty little room with wood paneling and a round table in the center. A stained glass lamp hung from the ceiling and sent dim light over the guys already seating.  
“This here’s Lloyd and Aiden,” Ross said, pointing at two young blond guys who were clearly related. “That’s John,” he was older with a beer gut, as were the last two, “Drew and Greg.” Greg was tall and bald while Drew had large muscles for an older guy.  
“Nice to meet you fellas,” said Dean, smiling briefly. Ross pulled an empty seat for him.  
“Here you go, Dean. Can I get you anything? Beer? Moonshine? Cigarette?”  
“Uhh, well…”  
He hadn’t drank any alcohol since his arrival, and that was all on purpose. The detox was keeping his Mark in check, he thought. One drink couldn’t hurt though, right?  
“Where’s the beer from?” Dean asked.  
“We make it. Just like the moonshine.”  
Dean looked slightly grossed out and Ross laughed.  
“Naw, naw, nothing to worry about.”  
“We’ve been doing it forever,” John added. He took a big sip from a mug.  
“Okay, I’ll bite. Just a taste.”  
Dean sat down while Ross got him a cup and filled at a keg in the back. It looked like a regular dark ale. He took a cautious sip that was followed by a grin.  
“Not bad.”  
“Hah! Told ya!” Ross laughed and joined them at the table. He took a bunch of hand rolled cigarettes and laid them out. The guys each grabbed one and used matches to light up.  
“That’s tobacco or…?” Dean pointed at the little rolled pieces.  
“Sure is. That’s my main product. Dry it myself in the shed out back.”  
“Huh. Okay. Might as well.”  
It had been years and years since Dean smoked, and he did it now mostly as a courtesy. The tobacco was strong but also smooth and somewhat pleasant, lacking the common additives in mainstream cigarettes. He took a couple drags and knocked some ash into a dish.  
“Name of the game’s blackjack, my friends,” said Greg, who was dealing cards. It turned out that they actually bet real money at these games.  
“Now don’t go crazy, Dean,” Ross warned. “We know how hard we’re all working for this scratch, and no game should put you outta money. It’s all for fun, right?”  
“Buddy, I know how to bet.”  
Dean flashed a big, cheap grin at Ross. He took out his wallet and picked up the hand of cards in front of him. He was feeling unusually lucky tonight, all of the sudden.  
The men drank and smoked well into the night, telling tales of how Hucksaw came to be, thrilling Dean with all sorts of anecdotes. They spoke of the Wilkersons but only in brief, since they must have kept to themselves quite well (as to be expected, since they were pretty decent hunters and also likely on the road more often than not).  
Dean cleaned up, too—by the midnight hour, when they called it quits, he was up forty six bucks. Not bad for a small, local game with folks who barely had a pot to piss in.  
“Damn, Dean,” Ross told him. “You’re hell of a lotta good luck for yourself!”  
“Sometimes.”  
He said his goodbyes to the fellas then took his earnings home. Admittedly, it was pretty fun. He could see himself doing that again.  
With no alcohol for a week, his tolerance was slightly less so than it used to be. He felt the booze thumping around in his veins. It was a good feeling, but it also made him worry—would it bother the Mark?   
Nothing much happened for the rest of the night as he went straight to bed. He took a shower in the morning and went back out to work the fields. It was terribly hot by the time he finished.   
After he made himself a late breakfast and rested for a while, a knock came to the door. Grudgingly, Dean set down his fork and answered. It was Ross, holding something behind his back.  
“Heya, Dean,” he said cheerfully.  
“What’s up.”  
“Wanted to thank ya for coming over last night.”  
“Sure. It was fun.”  
Dean smiled weakly.  
“Feeling all right there, pal?” asked Ross.  
“Yeah, just tired.”  
“Okay, okay, I won’t keep ya, then. Just wanted to give you a little somethin’-somethin’.” Ross brought his hands in front and gave Dean a large jug. “From the reserves,” he said.  
“Oh, wow,” Dean said, widening his eyes. He took it gratefully, despite a bitter worry in his stomach about being alone with alcohol. “That’s awesome. Thanks, man.”  
“Don’t mention it. I’ll catch ya later.”  
Ross waved and jumped off of the porch, leaving Dean standing in the threshold with the jug in his hands. He looked down at it and blinked hard. This wasn’t what he had in mind when he moved down to Hucksaw.

* * *

  
Of course Dean drank that evening. It was the first time he had chuggable alcohol freely on hand since he moved. That old habit wasn’t going to go down without a fight, Mark or not.   
He stayed up late and chugged away, more than he should of, but it tasted so good and he was delighted to have that alcohol buzz in him. He missed it so. Not as much as he missed Cas, though.   
“Cas…”  
He thought about him all day. When he was out in the fields, he thought about Cas being there and talking about plant life. When he was cooking for himself, he imagined Cas was standing there and observing. Everything he did, he thought about where Cas could be and what he might say. Dean wasn’t very good at coming up with words for Cas, but it made him smile anyway. He hoped that he and Sam were doing better. Poor Sam.  
Late into the night, Dean was sitting on the porch and thinking about things that were making him sad. The jug of moonshine was nearly empty now. His head was spinning from sadness, not the booze, and his heart wept. Poor Sam. Poor Cas. Poor Cas. The angel who cared so much for him, who undoubtedly cared for him as much as Dean did…he would never know Dean’s true feelings. Why? Was Dean really so terrified of having romantic feelings for another man that he would deny Cas something that good? Would it really be that good? Perhaps Cas didn’t care for Dean like that. Those were the questions that had kept Dean up all night for the last couple of years. He could only infer so much. But no, no, Dean was too scared to say anything. His chance was blown now and nothing would ever become of the two of them. It was over. That chapter would never come to fruition.   
His thoughts were all jumbled. They didn’t make any sense. Sadness, regret, denial, sadness—they spun around and spun around until just thinking alone made Dean dizzy. He had more shitty emotions and angst than a Supernatural season finale. Maybe it was the moonshine now.  
“Aah…”  
Dean closed his eyes and leaned back into the chair. He took a deep breath and set the jug on the ground. Now what? Cas, the Mark…he had to pick his battles, and being with Cas was the one that he had to let go of.  
He decided it might make him feel better if he took a little walk. Keep in mind that Dean’s house was right along the riverbank, so he just went out of the yard and he was at the water’s edge. The moon was sparkling in the rippled water. It was beautiful. Beautiful like Cas.  
“What’s wrong with me?” Dean asked out loud. Cas had occupied his thoughts a lot, but now that he was “gone forever”, the angel certainly wouldn’t leave. Maybe he thought about Cas whenever Cas thought about him.  
As he strolled in the dark, eyes fixed on the water, he suddenly heard a splashing sound in the distance. Intrigued by the alcohol and his natural inclination that any small noise could be of a malicious origin, he kept his hand on his gun and wandered off towards the river.  
Right around the bank did the water grow shallow and a considerable amount of rocks had been placed (it seemed, since the women often did their laundry on them during the day). Dean took slow, quiet steps closer and closer to the splashing. There was something moving in the shallow water.  
“HEY!”   
Dean saw a human figure stand up and he instantly shouted, nearly drawing his gun. But as soon as his eyes focused and it looked back at him, he realized that it was a woman. A naked woman.  
“Marietta?!”  
“Dean! What are you doing?!”  
The young woman dashed for her towel and covered herself up.  
“What are you doing?”  
“Bathing!”  
“At midnight?!”  
“I don’t want the guys to see me!”  
“Don’t you have a bathtub at home?”  
“It’s not as nice!”  
Marietta stepped out onto dry land and pulled the towel taught around her body. It pushed her boobs together and even though the light was dim, Dean could see that.  
“I guess of all the people to find me,” she said with a sudden twinge of coyness, “You’re not the worst.”  
“Right. So, I’m gonna head home now and get some sleep.”  
“Have you been drinking?” Marietta asked.  
“Well…”  
“I can smell Ross’ moonshine on you.”  
“Oh.”  
“Don’t worry. I won’t judge. I’m just glad you warmed up to them!”  
“Yeah well, what can I say. I’m a…cough…I’m a warm up kinda guy.”  
“Are you?”  
Marietta took a couple soft steps closer to Dean now.  
“No, no, listen, uh, hold on.”  
Dean wasn’t even sure if she was over 18 or not, and even so, at this point if he was going to be intimate with someone, that someone had better be Cas.  
“Huh?”  
“I gotta go,” Dean said quickly. He turned around and trotted back towards his house.  
“Dean, wait!”  
Marietta gave chase, but soon tripped on a couple small rocks and came crashing to her knees. Dean heard her fall and went running back.  
“Woah, woah, are you okay?” he asked, crouching down to her side.  
“I’m fine…atch…just scraped my knee. But I’m used to things like this.”  
She sat up and pushed the scrunched up towel aside to reveal a mess of scratches on her knee. It was mostly a superficial wound, but since the rocks had scraped the top layers of skin off, it bled a lot. Dean saw the red glinting in the moonlight and licked his lips.  
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hold you up,” Mariette apologized.  
“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”  
Dean’s eyes were fixed on the blood. He felt a tingle in his arm.  
“Dean? Are you all right?”  
“Yeah, fine. How about I just…clean this up for you…”  
Dean clapped his hand over the wound and pushed down.  
“HOH! That hurts! Dean, stop!” He applied further pressure. Marietta bleated. “Stop it!”  
She fidgeted and tried to kick out, but Dean’s grip was growing strong as the Mark heated up. Marietta’s struggle did nothing except open up her towel. Dean’s sight was diverted. He stared right at her chest. The breasts were supple, no doubt covered in freckles that the night camouflaged, but her big, perky nipples were unavoidable. Suddenly the heat in the Mark was sending messages to his crotch. He let off of her knee and instead grabbed her chest. Cas didn’t matter now, oddly.  
“D-Dean! What’s going on?”  
Clearly Marietta was confused but also slightly turned on. She tipped back to the ground and stared up at Dean with wide eyes. Dean dove his face down into the crook of her neck and began biting her.  
“Naah! Dean! Stop! If someone—aah—if someone sees, they’re gonna be mad! DEAN!”  
Sense was knocked back into Dean and he let off of the girl’s body. He sat up and stared at her in a daze.  
“I…shit…I gotta…I gotta go…”  
He got up and stumbled his way back to the house, but Marietta didn’t follow. He locked the front door and went up to the bathroom, where he turned the tap on and flushed cold water over his face.  
“What the fuck!” he cursed to himself, taking his shirt off now to look at the Mark. “I really, really can’t drink anymore. Shit. Shit.”  
The scar was red hot, pulsing as it sent bad images into Dean’s head. He could’ve had Marietta just then, but why? He didn’t want her. Sure, she was hot, but Dean wasn’t interested in “just hot” anymore. He wanted Cas.  
Cas.  
That stirred the Mark, too. His body was burning up, so he disrobed and went to the bed, where he lay on his back in the darkness and stared up at the ceiling. He was rock hard.   
“Imagine if that had been Cas bathing in the river,” he thought. “Pushing Cas on his back and pulling that little towel away. Ramming my cock inside him while he tells me to stop.”  
Dean never had rape fantasies before, but that changed right then. He brought his hand to his crotch and began jerking off slowly. It was an usual erection, longer than he thought biologically possible for him. He must have been pushing on eleven inches with it. And what was at the base? It felt funny. There was a big, thick ball right at the bottom that was harder than the rest. Was that a knot? Just like a dog.  
He jerked himself for a while, imagining terrible things he wouldn’t normally consider. The knot tightened. It grew thicker. What a great and yet horrible feeling.  
The erection seemed to last for an unusually long time. He pulled and pulled, squeezing the giant cock furiously. When he finally came, it shot rope after rope of thick, pearly cum all over himself. The dick was huge and the cumshot was huge. He groaned. It was amazing. He wished it was filling up Cas…would Cas like that?   
Once he got off, the Mark cooled down, he was able to settle and consider what caused the change. Clearly the blood from Marietta’s wound made the Mark flare up, but when she flashed her naked body, it took a turn that he hadn’t experienced before. The Mark had always made him murderous, not dangerously sexual. And never in his life had his cock been ten and half inches with a knot like a dog and shoot that much cum! Hopefully his behavior wouldn’t get him kicked out of the town…

* * *

  
First thing in the morning, Marietta showed up to apologize. She had a bandage on her knee now.  
“No, it’s my fault, I’m sorry,” Dean told her. “I sorta, well, I sorta have this problem…you remember when I said I didn’t want to be around people?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Kinda like that.”  
“I see. It’s an alcohol problem?”  
Dean cleared his throat loudly. “Y-yeah, sorta. Something similar.”  
“I’m sorry, Dean. I never should have pressured you into playing poker.”  
“No, no, not your fault. Relax. I need to apologize to you for acting like that. It was wrong of me. I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”  
“Not really, don’t worry about it.” Marietta smiled and cocked her head. “But if you want to have sex, you could’ve just asked.”  
Dean blushed. He didn’t want to, but how could he explain that?  
“Yeah, well…”  
Marietta looked down shyly. “It was scary because I’m still a virgin.”  
“UH. Hah. Okay. Uh. Wouldn’t want to pop that cherry for you. Let’s forget about it. How’s that sound?”  
She was clearly disappointed by this, but Dean was worried about her now. It wasn’t healthy or safe to excuse a person’s behavior that quickly, particularly when she had been in physical harm.  
“Do you have a wife or something that you left behind?” Marietta asked softly.  
Images of Cas flashed into Dean’s mind. It would be wrong to say he had a relationship with him, since Cas was (Dean thought) utterly clueless about his feelings. But Marietta wouldn’t know any of this.  
“There’s a p-person, yeah.”  
“Oh.”  
“Yeaaah.”  
“Okay. Let’s start over with a clean slate.”  
“Sounds good.”  
“I’ll see you later, Dean.”  
“Bye,” Dean closed the door and went into the study. He sat down at the desk and grunted loudly. What a mess. Couldn’t he have a week with zero drama? This whole thing was becoming counter-productive. Still, this weird change in the Mark’s behavior had to be address. Maybe he would have to bite the bullet and bring it up with Sam. Or Cas. He picked up the phone and dialed out.  
“Dean?” Sam answered the phone with the question.  
“Yeah, hey Sammy. How’s it going?”  
“I’m so glad you called. I’ve been waiting.”  
“What happened?”  
“It’s Cas.”  
“Cas? What about Cas?!”  
Dean’s heart skipped a beat and he held his breath.  
“He found a book that apparently has useful information in it, regarding the Mark of Cain, but before I had the chance to read it, he up and left.”  
“He left? Have you called him?”  
“I keep trying but his phone is consistently turned off.”  
“Did he say anything about where he was going?”  
“No, nothing. But my best guess would be—“  
“Here,” Dean interrupted.   
“Exactly.”  
“God damn it. What d’you think he found in that book?”  
“I don’t have the slightest idea. Not even sure which book is was, since he found it in one of the extra storage rooms that I haven’t sorted through yet. I’m looking around for a catalogue of the books from that section so maybe I can deduce if only that one is missing.”  
“Damn.”  
Had it been any other situation, Dean would be excited to think that Cas may likely be en route, but given the Mark, the drama with Marietta and Dean’s weird new behavior, Cas was pretty much the worst thing that could happen to him.  
“I’ll call back periodically to check in,” said Dean. “If Cas shows up, too.”  
“Okay. Sounds good.”  
“Bye.”

* * *

  
“Any chance you got more coffee I can buy off you?”  
Dean popped over to Betty’s place next door to try and distract himself. She greeted him with her grey hair done up in giant pink rollers.   
“Sure do, sure do,” she said with a smile. “And no need to pay me for it.”  
“Hey, come on. I’m a man who likes my coffee. I won’t run you out of town by taking it all.”  
Betty laughed.   
“It’s fine!” She said heartily, leading Dean inside. “Really, really, I don’t mind. Not at all, not at all. It’s a shame that you don’t come out more, because you seem to be a real fine young man.”  
“Heh…thanks…”  
Betty went into her kitchen and presently came back with a small paper bag. “Here you are, then.”  
“Thanks again. I owe you.”  
“Mm.”  
She nodded and Dean was on his way, bag of coffee tucked under his arm. At least he had something hot to brew and drink with the latest slice of pie, courtesy of Betty as well. It amazed Dean at how generous the people were. Hopefully they wouldn’t find out about the incident with Marietta.   
Dean got terrible sleep that night. Cas was on his mind constantly, and that caused him to toss and turn with maybe an hour of snoozing in between. It was hot and the windows were open, only the thin, cotton top sheet was on his bed and he stripped down to just boxers. It was still too much. Dean perspired something wicked.  
When morning rolled around, he was happy to get up. The sun was still down but it was time to work on the farm. This routine was nearly second nature already—getting water from the basin, drenching all of the plants then going through with the wheelbarrow and bucket to pick ripe and rotten produce. After the main fixing up, not much effort was required, only persistent care.  
Dean was nearly done with the daily harvest when Ross came onto the lot with something in his hands.  
“Hey, Dean!” he called out.  
“Huh?”  
Dean stood up and brushed dirt off of his hands. The latest fashion statement for him was a plaid shirt with the sleeves removed (in the Georgia sun, he just didn’t care anymore) and jeans tucked into his boots to keep the dirt out.  
“Gotcha something.”  
“What’s that?”  
Ross approached and held out a wooden pipe.  
“Was up carving them for the guys,” he said. “And here’s a bag for it.”  
Dean took the gift along with the tobacco and nodded. “Thanks, man.”  
“Don’t mention it. You’ll come back for poker next week, eh?”  
“Maybe.”  
Ross smirked. “Good deal, my friend. I think that me and the fellas wouldn’t mind seeing more of your hide around. You’re too damn reclusive.”  
“It’s like I said,” Dean explained, fingering the pipe, “I’m not here to make friends. I need this space. I know it sounds rude, but just trust me on this, okay?”  
“Whatever you say. Take care.”  
“See you.”  
Ross walked away, waving over his shoulder, and Dean put some of the tobacco into the pipe. He went back inside the house to get a match and lit up. It wasn’t bad, actually. In fact he was able to sit down and relax for a bit, just him and the smoke. He nearly forgot about Cas being MIA and possible on his way there.   
“Argh…”  
It was going to be another sleepless night, Dean assumed. After a disappointingly cold shower, he toweled off his hair and peeked at his reflection in the vanity. He needed a haircut. He needed a shave. In his clumsy packing he forgot to bring the electric razor and now the last disposable was shot, resulting in scruff that would soon become a forest. His chest hair was growing out, too, for the first time in forever, and his pubic hair was getting crazy. But these were the last things Dean had to worry about. Right now, he needed to figure out where Cas was.   
He lit the pipe up again and laid on the bed, legs crossed over each other. With his back against the headboard, he nursed the pipe and looked out of the window. Maybe Cas wasn’t coming to see him. Maybe he had other plans but needed help. If that was the case, Dean couldn’t sit idly by while the angel was in potential danger. But how could he even get started on where to look? And what of the Mark, and the farm?  
Stressed out beyond belief (which was so fucking counterproductive to his entire move), Dean snuffed out the pipe and rested his eyes. To his later discovered surprised, he fell asleep quickly.  
Just a little after midnight, the lock on the front door clicked softly. The knob turned without the touch of a person and the door opened up. Footsteps that weren’t particularly careful but rather naturally quiet, creaked across the floor. They paused in the kitchen, then took a moment to decide where to go and went upstairs. The bedroom door squeaked like a mouse as it opened and someone walked within. Dean heard this in his sleep and suddenly sprang awake, hand instinctively on his gun.  
“Cas!”  
“Hello, Dean.”  
Dean could make out that shape anywhere at any time, especially standing in the darkness in front of his bed. Cas had his arms, as usual, hanging at his sides and a blank expression on his face.  
“Why’re you here?” Dean asked, voice still foggy with sleep.  
“We need to talk.”  
“How urgently and can it wait ‘til morning?”  
“I suppose so.”  
Cas sat down on the edge of the bed and put his hands in his lap. He stared at Dean.  
“Is it good or bad?” Dean asked. He relaxed back into his pillow. It was nice to be just inches away from the familiar angel.  
“I’m inclined to say good,” said Cas.  
“Okay. Cool.”   
Dean offered a tired smile and closed his eyes.   
“Glad to see you.”  
“Me, too,” said Cas. “This is a nice area. I like the house.”  
“I’ll give you a tour of the farm tomorrow.”  
“I’d like that.”  
Cas smiled now, too, and Dean wondered why he had ever left him. But then he remembered Marietta.  
“Hey uh, Cas…”  
“Yes?”  
“Maybe you should give me some space. Just tonight. I mean, to be safe.”  
“Oh. Yes, that makes sense.”  
“There’s a little study downstairs by the backdoor. I’m sure you could keep yourself occupied by digging around in there.”  
“All right, then.”  
“I just need like three more hours of sleep and I’ll be golden.”  
“I understand. Goodnight, Dean.”  
“Night, Cas.”  
Three more hours later, Dean awoke and thought that incident had been a dream. It felt so unreal that its plausibility of being real didn’t even cross his mind. He dressed as usual and went downstairs to start taking care of the farm, but found Cas sitting at the kitchen table and let out a shout of surprise.  
“Good morning,” Cas said in a calm voice.  
“Cas!”  
“Yes?”  
“I thought…hoh…I thought that was a dream.”  
“No.”  
There was an unfamiliar book on the table. Dean glanced at it as he went to the stove and prepared coffee.  
“So, uh,” Dean said, trying to shake the surprise off of him, “You want the tour first, or have that chat you came here for?”  
“Both?”  
“Okay.”  
As the percolator did its thing on the stove, Dean shifted uneasily. Cas just sat there and stared at the book.  
“Is that from here or did you bring it?” Dean asked.  
“I brought it. Though I’m quite impressed with the library in that room, given its size.”  
“Yeah, me, too. Haven’t looked at it too much, but enough to get the gist. So what’s that one all about?”  
“It has information pertaining to the Mark of Cain.”  
Dean swallowed stiffly.  
“Oh, yeah?” he said with a shaky voice. “You want a cup of coffee?”  
“Fine.”  
He poured two cups and brought them to the table, taking a seat across from Cas. His eyes fell on the book.  
“So…?”  
Cas turned it over and pushed it to Dean’s side. The cover read, Sexual Appetites of the Dark Forces.   
“Woah,” Dean remarked in a choke as he saw the title. “This looks a little too 50 Shades for you, buddy.”  
“It’s strictly informative.”  
Cas was blushing, oddly enough. Dean kept looking at the book. He paged through it briefly.  
“So um, what about the Mark?”  
“According to this book,” Cas began after taking a quick sip of coffee, “The effects have two means of achieving satisfaction. That is to say, when it turns you aggressive, killing isn’t the only way to calm down. To feed the Mark’s rage.”  
Dean swallowed stiffly. Coffee didn’t seem too appealing right now.  
“You understand what I mean, don’t you?” Cas asked.  
“Think so…”  
“When the Mark gets a hold of you, it’s made you a murderous beast. You lack the ability to control yourself and it continues like that until you’ve spilt enough blood.”  
“Jeez, when you put it that way…” Dean wanted to say, “I don’t deserve to live,” but admitting that reality was too hard. Cas suddenly let go of the mug and put his hand over top of Dean’s. Dean widened his eyes.   
“No, Dean,” Cas said with a heartbreaking quiver in his voice, “Please don’t say it. You aren’t at fault for the effects of the Mark.”  
“I guess.” (“Maybe I should keep talking trash and Cas will touch me more,” Dean thought, on a lighter note.) “So what’s the ‘other way’?”  
Cas’ cheeks turned undeniably red now. He kept his hold on Dean’s hand.  
“It is, as the book may suggest,” his voice dipped quieter and quieter as he spoke, “Of a sexual nature.”  
“Okay,” said Dean. “Right. I think I understand. I can explain it before you can.”  
“Oh?”  
“Yes. Exactly. Here—when I go Mark crazy, I can shift my attention to something sexual and release the aggression that way.”  
Cas blinked.   
“Y-yes, actually. That’s what the book says. Was that a lucky guess?”  
“No,” Dean said, shaking his head, “I figured that out on my own.”  
“Oh…” Cas’ fingers fell from Dean’s hand now. “Was there an incident?”  
With great shame in his eyes, Dean nodded. “I fucked up. But it wasn’t anything I could have expected.”  
“Will you tell me?”  
“There’s a girl living here who really digs me. She was…well…it’s complicated. But she hurt herself and the blood got me going, then I saw her naked and suddenly this other side of me came out. I just wanted to,” (Dean cleared his throat loudly) “Rape her. Rape her and rape her and rape her. That’s not like me.”  
Cas agreed. “It’s anything but.”  
“Yeah, exactly.”  
“Then this book is true. I’m glad to hear that.”  
“I guess. But what good is it?”  
“Without the first blade, you can’t kill me.”  
“Right.”  
“So, if you don’t mind me imposing, I see no reason for me to leave. Rather I can stay and keep you in check.”  
Dean closed his eyes and pondered this momentarily. His heart wanted Cas to stay. That was clear. Part of him felt terrible because if Cas was there, why not Sam? Since Sam wasn’t an angel, Dean could slip up and very easily kill his brother. Still, there was some guilt. Then Dean looked at Cas and smiled. The Mark could be alleviated with sexual release…  
“All right,” he said. “You can stay. But you gotta help me on the farm, okay?”  
“That’s a deal.”

* * *

  
“Okay, so here’s the whole lot with everything they’ve been growing.”  
“It’s expansive.”  
“Yeah, a lot of work, too. But I think that’s better. Follow me.”  
Dean walked across the row fronts and pointed out which was which. “Tomatoes, tomatoes, cabbage, peanuts, onions, watermelon…obviously that is the cornfield. Then behind everything there’re peach and pecan trees.”  
“I’m impressed.”  
“We’ll see how impressed you are after you’ve been helping out,” Dean said with a chuckle. “I got a couple hundred bucks worth of crap sold to the vendor last week, hope to do more this time.”  
“So there’s a system.”  
“Yeah, of course. The people here live off of what their land makes.”  
“Livestock?”  
“They do, but I don’t.”  
“Oh…”  
Cas looked around.  
“I’m going to examine the buildings back there.”  
“Sure.”  
Dean stood there and watched as Cas walked away, his coat flailing in the soft wind  
“Hey, aren’t you hot?” Dean called out after him. Cas stopped walking.  
“Slightly,” he said, taking the coat off. He draped it over the nearby wheelbarrow and proceeded onward, while Dean just watched. He could see Cas’ back muscles shifting beneath the dress shirt.   
“Well at least I’m not officially feeding two people,” he muttered to himself. His stomach was growling so it was time to fix a meal. Soup again. Always vegetable soup.  
By the time it was finished and Dean was starting on a bowl, Cas came back inside the house.   
“So?” Dean asked, sitting down with his soup.  
“You have significant space for animal keeping.”  
“Yeah, I know, but I don’t think it’s in my budget right now.”  
“Ooh. I see.”  
Cas joined him at the table and folded his fingers together. Dean fed himself as he stared at the angel.  
“There are beehives,” said Cas. There was a faint glimmer of excitement in his voice.  
“What?”  
“You didn’t notice, did you?”  
“No.”  
“Behind the barn and along the pecan trees there are flower beds and beehives.”  
“Oh. That’s cool I guess?”  
“I want to raise bees.”  
Dean accidently dribbled some soup down his chin. He coughed a little and wiped up with a napkin.   
“Wh-what?”  
“I want to raise bees,” Cas repeated.   
“Do you even know how?”  
“Of course I do, I’ve raised them before.”  
Dean cleared his throat. “Right, right,” he said. A couple years ago, Cas had gone on that whole beekeeping adventure. How could Dean forget? That was the one time he actually saw Cas naked. “Beekeeping could be awesome.”  
“I think so,” Cas agreed. “Do you know if any of the neighbors keep them as well? Perhaps I could get my own bees from them. The hives are empty, unfortunately.”  
“You’d have to ask.”  
“All right.”  
Immediately, Cas got up and went out the front door.  
“Hey, wait!” Dean called out.  
“Yes?”  
Cas paused in the threshold.  
“You’re just gonna leave like that and ask?”  
“Yes, why not?”  
Dean stared at him. He shrugged.   
“Guess that’s true.”  
“I’ll return shortly.  
“Okay.”  
This was the perfect time for Dean to call Sam and let him know that Cas was alright. He cleaned the dishes up quickly then popped into the study. He picked up the princess phone and dialed out.  
“Dean?”  
“Yeah, hey. Listen, Cas showed up.”  
Sam sounded relieved already.  
“Good, good,” he said. “Is everything okay?”  
“Yeah, he’s fine.”  
“So why did he leave?”  
Dean coughed softy. “Guess he just misses me.”  
“Well, sure, I do, too.”  
“I know,” Dean sighed. “Keep in mind that I can’t hurt Cas, but I can hurt you.”  
“Right, of course. That’s what I keep telling myself, and it’s a fair point.”  
“I’m real sorry, Sam.”  
“It’s fine.”  
“My hope is that I can calm down enough to let you live here, too.”  
“Do you suppose that will ever happen?”  
“I have no idea, but I’m working on it. If it can, I will. And I mean that. I think you might like it down here.”  
“Thanks, Dean.”  
“Sure. Hey, I gotta keep my eyes on Cas for a bit, but I’ll call you when I can.”  
“Okay.”  
“Hang in there.”  
“You, too. Bye.”  
“Bye.”  
Dean hung up the phone and felt his heart break. He hated these sad conversations where he over and over again had to explain that Sam couldn’t be with him. At least he had Cas now.  
He sat out on the porch and smoked some more of that pipe while Cas was out and about. He kept his eyes peeled for any signs of him, but Dean didn’t have a clue as to where the angel went off to. His gold Continental was parked next to the Impala in the drive and that made Dean quite happy.  
After twenty more minutes, give or take a few, Cas came walking down the street. He had a bunch of things in his arms.  
“What’s that?” Dean called out, standing from the porch swing.  
“Your neighbor, Betty Albemarle, gave them to me.”  
He came up the steps and pushed his way inside. Dean followed to the kitchen counter where Cas dumped everything off. It was mostly paper bags with twine wrapped around them, but also a glass case filled with light yellow spread and a box of eggs.  
“Jesus Christ,” Dean muttered.  
“What? She’s very nice.”  
“Yeah, but…”   
Dean picked up the glass case. “What is this?”  
“Butter. They made it. These are all products they’ve made.”  
“Oh.”  
“If we had animals, we could produce them ourselves.”  
“Hold on there, Cas,” Dean interrupted. He laughed nervously. “You haven’t been here a day and you’re already trying to make changes.”  
“Maybe,” Cas admitted sheepishly. “But, Dean, I do like to think I know what’s best for you. And the Mark.”  
Dean put the butter into the fridge and sat at the table. It was cute to see Cas getting energized about the farm. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”  
“Let’s think about it.”  
“Okay.”  
Dean spent the rest of the day giving Cas tutorials on how to work the land. He showed him the watering basin, the hoses and all of the equipment, where to get water at the river when they needed it, and of course the property lines. Every aspect of the farm was fascinating to Cas. He took detailed mental notes as Dean explained.  
At the end of the day, Dean had more soup then went up for bed. He took a shower and came out in his bathrobe to find Cas sitting on the edge of the bed.  
“You need to sleep?” Dean asked.  
“It’s helpful these days.”  
“Okay,” Dean said. He was growing a bit warm in the cheeks. “So um, there isn’t much space. You can share—ahem—share my bed with me.”  
“Thank you.”  
Cas pulled back the sheets and lay down.  
“Er, won’t you get hot sleeping in all of that?” Dean asked. “I sleep in barely anything. It’s pretty warm up here.”  
He grabbed a fresh pair of underpants and put them on beneath the robe. Cas sat up.  
“That’s a good point,” said Cas. “I hadn’t thought of that.”  
Despite Dean’s best efforts to politely look away, he found himself staring as Cas took off his shirt and his pants, so that he was only in those starchy white boxers. Cas didn’t even notice Dean looking. He folded his clothes, left them on the dresser and got back in bed. Dean hung his robe up and climbed in beside him.   
“I like it here,” Cas said. He turned on his side and smiled at Dean. Moonlight was pouring in from the window over the bed and sparkling in Cas’ eyes. Dean wet his lips.  
“I like you here, too,” he muttered.  
“It’s…free.”  
“Yeah, that’s for sure. Even with the Mark, there’s so much weight lifted off of me. I can get up in the morning and breathe for once.”  
Cas blinked heavily, gazing at Dean, who was feeling nervous. This was that perfect moment he had always fantasized about. Now that Cas was here, maybe it was finally worth a shot.  
“Um, Cas…”  
“Yes?”  
“See, this place is new to us. Nobody knows anything about our past. It’s a clean slate. Just you and me.”  
“I agree.”  
“So, I thought, maybe…um…”  
“What’s the matter?”  
“This is difficult to explain,” Dean grumped. It was best to just let it out. “I’ve sorta been keeping feelings from you.”  
“What kinds of feelings?”  
“Stupid Hallmark-y feelings.”  
“I don’t understand.”  
Dean strained. He took a deep breath.  
“I wanna be with you,” he struggled to whisper. Cas narrowed his eyes.  
“But you are.”  
“No, no, not like physically here, I mean be here. Like a…like a couple…romantic interest...you know, pizza man…”  
“Ooh.”  
Cas opened his eyes wide now. They sparkled oddly at Dean, who was growing heavily embarrassed.  
“Sorry, shouldn’t have said anything,” Dean hummed.  
“Like this?” Cas asked.  
He reached forward, put a hand on Dean’s face and leaned in to kiss him right on the lips. Dean instantly closed his eyes and melted into it like butter. It was better than he had imagined, and he had imagined it often. He wrapped his arms around Cas’ waist and pulled him closer, digging into the kiss. Then he had to break it off before getting carried away.  
“Yeah,” he said, gasping slightly, “Like that.”  
“Why was that so hard to do?” Cas asked.  
“It’s complicated, I guess…but that means you’re okay with this? Being like that?”  
“Why wouldn’t I?” Cas tilted his head and pressed closer to Dean’s chest. “You know I’ve learned a lot of new things in the last few years. I know how to kiss. I know how to have intercourse. I’m not the angel I used to be. It’s been overwhelming, mostly, but experiencing strong feelings has been nice. I have to admit that I’ve fantasized about kissing you.”  
“Really?” Dean couldn’t believe it.   
“Is it wrong?”  
“N-no! Not at all!”  
Dean’s face must have been red like a pepper. Somehow he managed to keep his arms around Cas, feeling his firm muscles and the heat of his body. “It’s just surprising,” he added.  
“I know, and it should be. Angels and humans…they aren’t a good match. I remember about six years ago, Uriel took me aside and warned me to stay away. He said that humans can and will corrupt the purest of souls. Well, you know how that played out.”  
“You had feelings for me back then?”  
“I did, but I failed to recognize what they were.”  
There was a funny smile on Cas’ face that told of how satisfied he was with himself, quite possibly for the first time.  
“And either way,” he continued, “I couldn’t have let those human feelings hurt you.”  
“Hurt me? How?” Dean asked. His arms around Cas felt out of place but also at home. It was strange to fall into a relaxed and somewhat vulnerable state this quickly, but perhaps the long withheld desire to be intimate pulled them together as if they had been lovers for years.  
“Our weaknesses have been exploited by our enemies, no doubt,” said Cas. “If they knew we were physically close, it may have caused us to lose a battle.”  
“Mmh. Good point.”  
“I don’t think that matters anymore now.” Cas put his hand on Dean’s arm, touching the Mark tenderly. “This is our only remaining fight.”  
“And I plan on winning it,” said Dean, “Or at least drawing even. Right?”  
“Right.”  
“I’ve dreamed of this moment for a long time, man…”  
“Then,” Cas began, eyeing Dean oddly, “Then we should have sex.”  
Dean had to stop himself from completely flipping out. Already?! Was that something he would even do? Cas might be genderless but the vessel is male, so…  
“I-I dunno!” he blurted out. “D-do you know how to do the dirty with another dude? I mean, you haven’t done that, right?”  
“No. But I know how to do it with a woman. How much more complicated could it be?”  
“Jeez, jeez, jeez, Cas. I uh, I dunno. Maybe—hah—Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been thinking sexy thoughts of you since day one, but actually following through is a whole other story. Then with the Mark and all…I’d hate to have it get weird. And it’s all pretty sudden.”  
“Six years of longing is hardly sudden…and sexual release is good for the Mark.”  
“But we don’t know how the process goes.”  
“That is true.”  
“Let’s sleep on it, how about that? We’ll worry about it tomorrow?”  
“I can appreciate that. Good night, Dean.”  
He thought about kissing Cas again, but his over-analysis was making it weird. He kept hugging him but made no lip contact.

* * *

  
In the morning, Dean was somehow awake before Cas. As much as he wanted to lay there and watch the angel snooze, he had to get on with the day. After washing and dressing, he carefully woke Cas up and told him to come out into the farm with him.  
“You need better clothes,” Dean commented. Cas was back to wearing his suit.   
“Why?”  
“Those aren’t good for working fields out in the sun. We’ll have to go into town and shop at some point.”  
“What about the clothes that the old residents left?” Cas suggested. There had been a lot of items hanging on the clothesline, but Dean brought them in and shoved them away in the bottom dresser drawer. He hadn’t really thought about them.  
“Not sure what size the guy was. It’s worth a shot, though.”  
They returned to the bedroom and Dean took all of the old clothes out and set them on the bed. Cas looked them over. “These pants won’t fit,” he said. “My waist and thighs are…” Gazing at Dean’s lower body, he slowed his words, “Larger than yours.”  
“Yeah but I like that. Maybe they’ll fit me.”  
Dean snatched the jeans from Cas but a quick onceover proved that they were too small. “Oh, well. We’ll buy you some stuff.”  
“This will fit me.”  
Cas had gone into the woman’s clothes. Sally Wilkerson was a big lady and her dresses could actually kind of fit Cas, provided they were sleeveless. He had undressed and was trying to slip into a yellow sundress. Dean blushed.  
“But those are chick’s clothes,” he said.  
“Does it matter? Technically I’m not a man or a ‘chick.’”  
“Yeah but…”  
The dress came down over Cas’ body and Dean’s eyes were fixed. He looked—good? How?   
“This is comfortable,” said Cas.  
“Can you do yard work in it?”  
“I don’t see why not.”  
“Come on, then,” Dean said between chuckles. “Let’s get watering.”  
After most of the daily chores were done and Dean was enjoying a meal, Cas wanted to ask Betty about bees. The man figured he would go with him this time and give her a proper introduction to them both. It would be best if nobody knew they had romantic intentions, though.  
“Oh, Mr. Dean and Mr. Cas! How nice to see you!”  
“Well I guess you’re familiar enough with my pal by now,” Dean commented, chuckling.  
“A fine man, that’s for sure. Why don’t you come on in, hm?”  
“Er, okay,” said Dean.  
“Thank you,” said Cas. They followed Betty inside and she began to make tea for them. Everyone sat at her small dining table, but when Betty brought the kettle over, she noticed the Mark on Dean’s arm.  
“Curious,” she said. Dean tried to withdraw his arm. Cas was preoccupied with the tea. “Why might a fella like you have a scar like that?”  
“Bad burn, a long time ago. I don’t think it’s going away.”  
“A shame,” Betty tutted, shaking her head. She said down and motioned to a jar of honey.  
“Ah!” Cas perked up. “This is precisely what I mean to inquire about. Betty, do you keep bees?”  
“We do!”  
“Could you possibly give me some to start our own hive?”  
“The Wilkersons were beekeepers?”  
Dean sipped his tea with a strain. “’Parently,” he muttered.  
“Now I didn’t have the slightest idea. How about that! Good to have the bees around, you know.”  
“They’re extraordinarily beneficial to the environment,” Cas mused.  
“Indeed, but not only that.” Betty looked at them both and smirked. “They’ve got good vibes. It was always said that they represent the Christ in the land. The living essence. The pure. Mm. New beginnings and strong protectants!”  
Cas nodded as if he knew all of this very well, but Dean stared at Betty with his mouth open.  
“What’s the matter, Mr. Dean?”  
He shook his head out of its initial shock. “Sounded weird for you to say that.”  
“Oh, did it, now?”  
“I guess. Don’t worry about it.”  
“I see. Very well, then. But don’t you ever hesitate to speak your mind around me.”  
“I won’t. Thanks.”  
After a little more chitchat, Dean went home and Betty took Cas around back to look at her bees.  
“I could give you some from here,” she said, pointing to a hive. She had many.  
“Incredible,” Cas marveled. He moved between the boxes with his eyes open wide. “This is a significant array of colonies. I’m impressed.”  
“Many thanks, many thanks. I think I could get them together and bring them over by the evening. Does that work for you, Mr. Cas?”  
“Yes. I appreciate it more than you know.”  
“Ahh, so you say, so you say!”  
Betty smiled, but then it fell and she stared at Cas, who looked back at her with his usual narrow eyes again. They said nothing for a moment, then Betty nodded, said “Take care of Mr. Dean,” and went inside. Cas returned to Dean’s house. The man was smoking on the porch.  
“Got your bees?” Dean asked.  
“Almost. She’s going to bring them over tonight.”  
Cas walked to the door and nearly went inside, but Dean stopped him.  
“Why don’t you sit out here with me for a while?”  
“I still have work to do,” Cas said.  
“We’ll always have work to do. Come here.”  
Cas made a smile and joined Dean on the porch. He watched the smoke billow from the man’s nose. “This is a new habit,” he noted disdainfully.  
“Yeah, well, a lot of new things going on here.”  
Dean smirked at Cas briefly. He wanted to touch him, but something inside still kept him away. Maybe it was the fear of hurting him, as irrational as that was. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said at last.  
“I am, too.”  
“I’m also glad that we’re finally honest about our feelings.”  
Cas looked at Dean and sighed happily. “I am, too,” he repeated. “It’s strange to move quickly, but…a tremendous relief.”  
“Yeah.”  
Dean nursed his pipe a little while longer before releasing Cas to continue working. The angel disappeared within the acreage though Dean stayed inside. He stood by the back door, eyes on Cas who was taking the wheelbarrow back into the tomatoes. Dean touched over the Mark. It was calm. His heart was resting easy. How was it even possible for Cas to cool him off so well?  
Betty brought the bees later, which kept Cas up well into the night. Dean wasn’t sure what he was doing out there, but he gave Cas that alone time while he relaxed and had dinner inside the house. As much as he wanted Cas to join him, it might not be a completely bad idea to make some space.  
“How’re the bees?”  
Cas was finally back, but Dean was already in the bathroom upstairs getting washed for the night. The angel began to undress.  
“Healthy. Well-established. They’re quite successful, I would say.”  
“Cool.”  
“Yes, something like that.”  
“You tired?”  
Dean came from the bathroom with a towel drying his face. Cas stood there in his underwear, looking his usual adorable self. Dean bit down on his lower lip.  
“No,” said Cas. “I’ll be up longer.”  
“Okay. I’m gonna hit the hay. I’m beat.”  
Cas turned to the bed and pulled back the covers for Dean, who smiled sweetly and got in. Before laying down, he reached out and snatched Cas’ hand.  
“Huh?”  
“Hold on,” said Dean, squeezing the fingers.  
“What is it?”  
“Goodnight kiss.”  
“Why?”  
“Because we’re a—uh—couple now, and it’s a nice thing to do. As a couple. Y’know. Feelings and all that.”  
“Ahh.”  
“Come here.”  
He pulled Cas to his level and their lips met briefly, leaving the angel with a sweet smile on his face. “I like that,” he mused.  
“Yeah, me, too. I’ll see you later.”  
“Sleep well, Dean.”  
The man settled into bed at last while Cas wandered back downstairs. He went into the study the picked up the phone, clearly having thought his actions out earlier.  
“Hello?”  
“Sam.”  
“Cas! How are you? How’s Dean? Is everything okay?”  
“Yes, everything is fine.”  
“I’m glad to hear from you.”  
Sam’s voice sounded tired and possibly a little broken, but Cas’ words provided a great, audible comfort.  
“Dean and I are very happy here.”  
“That’s great. How’s the Mark?”  
“Unnoticeable currently.”  
“Wow, fantastic news.”  
“I need your help with something, Sam.”  
“Oh? What?”  
Cas cleared his throat softly and looked around the room, perhaps making sure that Dean wasn’t nearby.   
“Dean is well, but I suspect he could use additional comfort.”  
“Like what?”  
There was a hint of amusement in Sam’s voice.  
“We have a home now, a real, human home. There’s a system and a pattern to our lives – very orderly, it’s wonderfully lovely – and I think that needs more human comforts.”  
“I don’t understand what you mean,” Sam admitted. “Are you trying to be a housewife?”  
“Housewife?”  
“That’s when a wife stays home and takes care of the house, you know, by cooking and cleaning.”  
“Ah. Yes, then. That’s what I would like to do.”  
Here, Cas paused. He felt a flicker of redness grow in his cheeks, since he had accidently implied a romantic connection with Dean.  
“Are you still there?” Sam asked.  
“…yes.”  
“I bet Dean would love it if you cooked for him.”  
“Do you think so? He seems to be cooking for himself.”  
“He likes that, too, but I’m sure he’d be thrilled for you to do it.”  
“Then I’ll have to try…I want him to be happy…”  
“I think you should, and I do, too. Cas? Can I ask you something?”  
“Yes.”  
Sam hesitated.  
“Are you, um, are you intimate with my brother?”  
A wave of embarrassment rushed through Cas’ body and he was unable to answer. The phones fell silent.   
“I’m happy if you are,” Sam added, a little nervously.  
“You are?”  
“Sure I am.” His confidence rose. “Do you think I haven’t noticed you guys having feelings for each other? It’s obvious. We’ve all known. I’m glad that you’re finally honest about it…you are, right?”  
Cas smiled, holding the phone close.  
“Yes,” he cooed. “We are.”

* * *

  
Dean woke up to the alarming smell of fire. He jolted awake and immediately went running downstairs, scared that a fire had caught and Cas was in trouble (as if). But as he descended, the smell changed from raw wood into fried meat, cornbread and freshly brewed coffee. Dean slowed the last couple steps and came into the kitchen curiously.  
“Uh, Cas?”  
Standing at the wood burning stove, wearing only his starchy white boxers, Cas tended to a frying pan. Dean scratched his head and walked up alongside him. There were slabs of salty ham sizzling there.  
“Good morning, Dean,” Cas said with a cool smile.  
“Um…morning. Where did—where did all this—is it for—uhhh…”  
The angel pointed to a plate sitting on the counter which was piled with pancakes and sitting beside a steaming percolator. Dean’s mouth dropped.  
“What is all this?”  
“Breakfast,” said Cas.  
“I get that. But…why?”  
Cas turned to Dean and smiled, showing his teeth. His eyes crinkled with pride. “For you,” he said.  
“You don’t have to cook for me, Cas.”  
Dean put his hand onto Cas’ shoulder and rubbed it, but Cas shook his head. “I would like to,” he said. “I want to be your housewife.”  
Now Dean flushed bright red. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said quickly, smiling nonetheless, “But thanks. I really appreciate it. Smells great, too!”  
He poured himself a cup of coffee then sat at the little table. Cas finished up tending to the pork and made a plate up for Dean. Surprisingly, he put together some for himself, too.  
“You don’t have to eat just to make me happy,” said Dean, mouthful of pancakes (cornmeal ones, too).  
“I thought it smelled nice and I wanted to try it.”  
“Oh.”  
Dean smirked. He liked it when Cas did things strictly for his own benefit. It was sort of like watching his kid grow up, in a really, really fucked up kind of way.  
“So where’d this ham come from?”  
“Betty gave it to me earlier.”  
“Did she come by or did you go over there?”  
“She came here.”  
“Huh. Okay.”  
“What? I like her. She’s quite nice.”  
Dean chewed. “Yeah, she is,” he agreed, “But I’ve told her I don’t want much company.”  
“Perhaps I’ve given her the wrong impression.”  
Mouth full of food, Dean grinned at Cas and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.” He reached over and touched Cas on the arm. Ah, that sweet touch. It sent ripples of happiness through Dean’s arm—a welcome relief to the Mark’s burdensome heat.  
Time was of the essence and farm work needed to commence. After they enjoyed a quiet breakfast, they dressed and began taking care of the crops. Cas also went back to check on his bees, which were unchanged from the night before.  
With the midday sun high above their heads, beating down with incredible heat, Dean had worked up a great sweat in the fields. He returned to the kitchen and dabbed his dirty face with a cold, wet towel, grunting in relief from the water. Cas had been absent for a little while, but Dean was learning how that’d be the angel’s routine. No matter how romantically involved they would get, (Dean stopped here to smile) Cas would always need time to be that dorky little guy and do his Cas business.  
Knock knock.  
“Ah, hell.”  
By now it was clear that Dean hated visitors, especially now that Cas was there. No doubt would the rest of the town have noticed the new arrival, much to Dean’s dismay.  
“Hey, Dean.”  
When he opened the door, he found Marietta standing there. She looked like she had been working hard that day.  
“Oh, uh…hey, Marietta…what’s up?”  
“I heard you’ve got someone else staying here with you, I thought I’d just stop by and um, say hi.”  
“Oh. I don’t really—we don’t really want visitors.”  
“Not even me?” Marietta batted her eyes, which frustrated Dean a bit since he thought he made it clear that he wasn’t interested. Maybe he was the one giving mixed signals unintentionally?  
“I just don’t think it’s the best idea.”  
Marietta was visibly disappointed. “Fine,” she said. “If you want to be anti-social, I’ll leave you to it.”  
“Don’t get so bent out of shape!” Dean said. “We don’t exactly have a good history.”  
“I know, but still. Your friend will probably want to meet everyone.”  
Dean groaned. “I don’t know. Shouldn’t you be working or something?”  
The young woman bit her lower lip. “Yeah, I should. Okay. Bye, Dean.” She turned around in an instant and walked away from his house, leaving Dean confused and angry.  
“What’s her problem?” he grumbled to himself.   
“Who?”  
Cas had come back inside and walked behind Dean now. “Who were you talking to?”  
“Marietta. I dunno. She wanted to meet you, but…”  
“But?”  
Dean closed the door and leaned back against it, closing his eyes in frustration. “But I don’t want us to be best buddies with everyone.”  
“I’m not struggling with the Mark,” said Cas. “It doesn’t matter if I know the townspeople or not.”  
“But you’re an angel. The less socializing, the better, right?”  
Cas frowned. “That’s true, but…”  
“But what?!”  
Dean’s forehead wrinkled but Cas stood his ground.  
“Dean, are you all right?”  
“No.”  
Dean pushed by Cas and went upstairs. The angel didn’t follow. Maybe Dean needed his space right now.  
For the rest of the day, Dean kept to himself and said nothing. He was pissed at Marietta and pissed at everything else in general. Feeling the anger bubbling in him, he knew it was better to avoid Cas, even with the supposed “relief” that they had found.  
As night approached, Cas took it upon himself to seek out Marietta even though Dean told him not to. He didn’t want to go against his orders, but it bothered Cas to know that someone wished to meet him and he couldn’t fulfill that.  
He didn’t know where the girl lived, so he went by Betty’s and asked her. She answered with her mop of grey hair done up in rollers.   
“Oh, Mr. Cas. How are ya?”  
“I’m well.”  
“And the bees?”  
“They’re fine.”  
The old lady’s smile fell serious.  “What about Mr. Dean?”  
Cas blinked, wondering to himself why Betty’s expression had changed.   
“He’s…fine.”  
“Mm. Good. I’m glad to hear it! Now what can I do ya for?”  
“I was wondering if you could direct me to Marietta’s house.”  
“Oh, absolutely. Just this one right over there.” Betty pointed down the way. “She lives there with her maw, and if I didn’t know better, she’s taken a liking to Mr. Dean. But…”  
Cas stared at Betty, who smiled sheepishly once more. She scratched the back of her head. “But I s’pose there’s no future in that.”  
“No,” Cas stated quite clearly. Betty smiled more.  
“Glad to hear it, oh I’m glad to hear it,” she said.  
Cas wasn’t sure how to respond, so he flashed her an awkward smile and went on his way to Marietta’s. He certainly knew what had happened between Dean and the young woman, but why would Betty take a side in it? Cas knocked on the front door.  
“Um, hello?”  
Wrapped in a bathrobe, Marietta answered the door through tired eyes. She looked Cas over.  
“Are you Marietta?” Cas asked.  
“Yeah.” Realizing in and instant who Cas must have been, Marietta grinned. “You’re Dean’s new friend, aren’cha?”  
“Yes.”  
Marietta walked out onto the porch, arms folded, and made a circle around Cas, analyzing his stance. The angel didn’t move though his eyes watched her carefully.  
“You’re sorta awkward.”  
“I know.”  
“How in the hell did you meet a guy like Dean?”  
“That’s quite accurate.”  
“What?”  
Cas shook his head. “We’ve known each other for many years.”  
“Uh, okay, then.” Marietta returned to the threshold. “So why’d you come by?”  
“I wanted to apologize for Dean’s behavior…earlier. He’s not in a good place right now, but I assure you he’s a wonderful person.”  
Marietta nodded. “I get it, don’t worry. Thanks—er, what’s your name?”  
“Cas.”  
“Cas?”  
“Yes. Goodbye.”  
“Um…”  
Cas turned quickly and walked away, leaving Marietta quite confused but not surprised. He went straight home to get some sleep but was startled to find Dean standing on the porch. He had his pipe held firmly between his lips, arms akimbo and a frown on his face.  
“H-hello, Dean.”  
“Where the fuck were you?”   
His voice was tight and dark.  
“I introduced myself to Marietta.”  
“God damn it, Cas!”  
Dean grabbed his pipe and threw it to the ground. Cas stood there and stared at him shamefully.  
“I told you not to talk to her!”  
“I’m sorry, Dean. I know what you asked of me, but I couldn’t—“  
“What happened to being my housewife?!”  
“I’m sorry—“  
“What happened to taking care of me? Y-you’re full of shit, you know that?”  
Dean turned into the house and slammed the door. Cas took a deep breath. There was nothing Dean could do that would seriously injure Cas, so it didn’t matter if he challenged him—he just needed a way to cool him down.  
“I know that’s just the Mark talking,” Cas said, creeping inside the house. Dean was gone. Probably upstairs. “Dean?”  
“Shut up.”  
Dean was crumpled on the bed, holding his left hand over the Mark. It was burning him. His head was on fire.  
“Dean,” Cas cooed. He sat down beside him and lightly put his hand on him, but Dean shunned him away.  
“No, stop,” the man cried softly.  
“Dean.”  
“No.”  
“You have to let me calm you down, remember?”  
Dean’s right hand went between his own legs and grabbed in embarrassment. “No,” he said again, “We haven’t had sex yet. I don’t want the first time to be Mark-fueled. That’s just not right.”  
“I understand, Dean, but you shouldn’t wallow in your anger. Let me calm you down. We won’t have sex.”  
Stiffly, Dean agreed with Cas. The angel got up momentarily and went to the bathroom, returning with a wet towel. He sat behind Dean and placed the towel over the Mark, sending cool relief through the man’s entire body. Given the sudden change in temperature, it felt as if he should have been steaming.  
“This isn’t a full flare up,” said Cas, applying steady pressure to the scar, “So I think it can be suppressed with ease.”  
“I guess,” Dean sighed. He gave into Cas’ touch.   
“How does that feel?”  
“Good.”  
Cas’ face leaned over Dean’s shoulder and pressed into the crook of his neck, kissing lightly. Dean shivered. The Mark was being eased.  
“Y-yeah, real nice.”  
“I’m glad.”  
After a while, Cas dropped the towel and instead slid both of his hands down to Dean’s crotch.  
“H-hey,” Dean inhaled.  
“What?”  
“Eh, it just—it still feels weird for you to be sexual.”  
Cas’ hands groped around the growing erection between Dean’s legs.  
“But you want this, don’t you? We are in a relationship, right?”  
Dean swallowed tightly and tipped his head back into Cas. “Yeah, and yeah.”  
“I’m not a virgin, Dean…”  
Cas’ voice turned into a low whisper. He teased his nose against the side of Dean’s jaw and put a few kisses there. Dean smiled. In the dark, hot room, there was peace.  
“How is the Mark feeling now, Dean?” Cas hummed.  
“Nothing.”  
“Good.”  
Dean looked back at Cas and they kissed, holding it for some time. The angel continued to play with his clothed crotch.  
“Okay, Cas,” Dean whispered, eyes nearly closed, “Do you wanna consummate this relationship?”  
“Yes.”  
“Let’s do it.”  
In one smooth move, Dean turned around and pushed Cas onto his back. The angel’s eyes grew wide and a vague smile was on his lips. Dean tugged off his own boxers then yanked Cas’ down. Even though Cas’ grace kept his vessel preserved, Dean’s body had grown hairy. His hard cock sat nestled in a fine nest, eager to explore Cas for the first time.  
“I guess you don’t need lube,” Dean said. He lifted Cas’ legs and propped them over his waist, now touching their dicks together. Cas gazed up at Dean in the darkness, lips parted in a gentle expectation.  
“I want this,” he whispered.  
“Me, too,” said Dean.  
With one hand, Dean reached down and parted Cas’ cheek, touching over the outside of his hole. It was so tight, so firm…how could he get through there? He licked his fingers and brought them back just to dip inside a little bit. Clearly feeling no pain, Cas made a tiny, breathy moan and relaxed into Dean’s touch.   
“How’s that?” Dean asked.  
“Hungry,” said Cas. “I want more.”  
Dean smirked and prodded his fingers deeper. Despite the days of kisses and sleeping together that were inevitably building to this, it was still hard to believe that he was really going to fuck Cas. The angel was splayed beneath him, body exposed completely and a hungry, needy purr coming from his throat.   
“Okay.”  
He pulled his fingers out in and instant and, after dabbing the head with more saliva, aimed his cock right at the hole. “Tell me if it hurts,” he said, knowing the answer already. Cas arched his back and prepared himself by touching Dean’s arms with shaky hands.  
The moment they had both been waiting for—Dean’s entrance at last—started with a loud cry of pleasure from Cas. His fingers dug into the flesh of Dean’s arms as his entire body tensed. His legs, sticking up in the air around his partner’s waist, flailed and wiggled, toes curling and tendons pulled this way and that. Dean, on the other hand, was so focused on Cas’ face that he barely had the chance to make any noises himself. The angel’s eyes widened, possibly in time with his heartbeat, and a thin line of tongue pushed down into his lower lip to give way to a beautiful gape.  
“I like this,” Cas gasped in the middle of it all. Dean hadn’t even begun to really pound him yet and his cock didn’t even make it all the way in.  
“Me, too,” was all Dean could say.   
He slowly, slowly made progress. Each centimeter more that Dean pushed through, Cas let another cry or moan or grunt of pleasure whip out of him. It didn’t take long for Dean to get deep and comfortable enough that he could probably hump him.  
“How’s this feel?” Dean asked, breath starting to hitch.  
“It’s good.”  
Cas tossed his head back and closed his eyes, savoring the sensation of Dean taking his anal virginity. Dean gave a steady rhythm of thrusts at last, pinning Cas by the shoulders and breathing hotly against his face. As the humping continued and gradually increased, Dean arched closer and closer to Cas, while the angel looked up to him and grabbed his arms harder. His right hand slid up the bicep and caressed the remnants of the handprint scar. It wasn’t nearly what it used to be, only barely discernably a hand, but it was still important to both of them. That was a mark that Dean never wanted to lose.  
“I’m going to have a climax,” Cas announced in a stiff voice, focused hard on Dean’s eyes.  
“Do it. Me, too.”  
They huffed against each other and fucked harder and harder, so impossibly fast that Cas’ eyes rolled back into his head. He gripped the handprint and let out a cry—loud, piercing and so intense that his eyes couldn’t remain closed and a bright flash of blue fluttered out from between them. Dean felt the orgasm from Cas and he went straight over the edge, too, only he wrapped his arms around the angel and buried himself in his neck.  
“Aaah,” Dean hissed. “Daaamn…”  
Dean collapsed on top of Cas and they embraced. Cas closed his eyes. He was savoring the sweet sensations of finally sharing this act with Dean—the man he cared so deeply for.  
“Oh, Dean…”  
“Did you like that?”  
“Yes…”  
“Awesome…”  
Typical Dean fell asleep almost instantly, leaving his heavy weight pushed into Cas. He woke up about an hour later realizing that he was still inside the angel. In a sleepy daze, he pulled out and flopped onto his side. Cas was snoring quietly. Moonlight was beaming in through the window and dancing on his still face.   
Dean considered how differently he felt about Cas since the first time they met. Well, the first time that Dean met him. Cas was a confused creature who had been thrown into a frazzled body. He struggled with every aspect of his reality, and yet the only thing that was steady throughout was how they shared a profound bond. Early on, it was strange; Dean was never all that intimidated by Cas (even though he should have been), but despite the angel’s previous lack of emotion, there was something that pulled Dean. What was it? Right now he certainly knew what it was—Cas was beautiful. His imperfections made him perfect. If his true form didn’t have a heart, his true soul certainly did, and every ounce of it was filled with care for Dean. 

* * *

  
When morning came around, Dean announced that they were finally going to head into town for some shopping after the vendor came. They arrived early and the guys scrambled to get their produce together. A substantial load yielded handsome profits and Dean was ready to splurge on his “housewife.”  
Now that money wasn’t a botched credit card (Dean decided he would take the “Mark detox” on as many levels as possible) they had to think about what they bought. There was a secondhand store in the village beyond Hucksaw’s forest. Cas liked the scent of years gone by, and it didn’t take him long to find clothes that suited him and his new way of life.  
“Boots, too,” said Dean. He chucked a pair of Cas’ size at him. “You can’t keep working on the land in dress shoes or nothing.”  
“I suppose that’s right.”  
“Okay, and these…”  
Dean had found some nice linen button ups. They would keep the sun and bugs off without getting too hot. Dean bought enough for the both of them and they were on their way. A hat store was next door and Dean pointed out a nice pair of cowboy ones.  
“I’m not sure if I like them all that much,” said Cas.  
“Since when do you care about fashion?” Dean chuckled. He put a smooth brown one on his head and checked himself in the mirror. His face fell. “I guess I could be a real cowboy now…almost.”  
“But we don’t have cows.”  
Cas found a ladies straw hat that he preferred. Dean couldn’t judge Cas’ genderfluidity. It worked well with his “manly yet gorgeous” vessel. But he also got a cowboy hat, a black one, to make Dean happy (“There was a movie he liked,” Cas thought to himself, “With two cowboys.”)  
“Maybe it’s time to invest in some livestock. You’d like that, huh?”  
A thin smile formed on Cas’ face from beneath the straw hat. “Certainly.”  
Inspired by his latest discovery, Dean was eager to get home and put on his new clothes. Cas got into a snug pair of jeans, his new boots and a cream-colored linen shirt. He topped it off with his black cowboy hat and smiled at Dean, who was done up in a similar outfit, only his shirt was a fine blue and white plaid. He tied a red paisley kerchief around his neck and tipped his hat, sauntering up to Cas ala John Wayne. “Ma’am,” he said, offering his hand.  
“Ma’am?” Cas asked. He slipped his fingers into Dean’s palm and narrowed his eyes at him.  
“Never mind,” said Dean. He rolled his eyes shortly thereafter.

* * *

  
The more time that passed, the less Dean felt the Mark, but that didn’t mean it was gone. Now that they officially consummated their relationship, sex was happening regularly. Every other night and occasionally in the mornings, but work started early so that wasn’t a very popular time. There had been no need to try the theory of release that Cas had read about, but that changed one day.  
It was quite hot and Cas had been over at Betty’s discussing the bees. It wouldn’t be too long until his first collection of honey began, but Betty wasn’t quite as enthusiastic.  
“Your friend Mr. Dean,” she said, sharing a pot of tea with the angel.  
“Yes?”  
“How’s he doing?”  
“He’s quite well.”  
“I haven’t seen him much.”  
“He prefers to keep to himself.”  
“I know, but something’s been off lately, I can tell. That scar on his arm…”  
“It was an accident,” Cas said softly. He took a sip of his tea and eyed Betty suspiciously. The old woman sucked her cheeks in.   
“You know more than I do, I’m sure of that now,” she said. Cas blinked and she smiled. “You’re certainly older, aren’t you?”  
“I’m sorry?”  
“Well, you are an angel, right?”  
Cas froze. He nearly dropped the tea cup.   
“How…”  
But Betty just smiled wider and shook her head. A little chuckle came out and she reached out to touch Cas’ arm.  
“I debated telling you, I did,” she said. “I know that Mr. Dean’s running away from something big and I didn’t wanna cause more trouble for him, but…but I’ve been a’thinking and I suppose it’s best to be out about it. I’ve got fancy eyes. I can see those wings of yours.”  
Cas felt as if he was naked, only worse. His wings; great, vast plumes of sparkling celestial colors that forever extended from the back of his vessel yet were entirely unseen by the naked eye, were and had been exposed to this elderly woman. He felt his wings ruffle and Betty laughed.  
“It’s all right, Mr. Cas!” she hollered. “I know the Wilkersons were hunters, and I’m guessing that Mr. Dean is, too? Or at least he used to, am I right? Hmm?”  
Cas nodded slightly. “That’s correct,” he said.  
“Oh, Mr. Cas, you have got to relax. I don’t mean to exploit you—I know what your kind is capable of! But you’re a sweetheart and I’ve taken to liking you a great deal. Mr. Dean, too. So tell me…what’s ailing him? That scar, is it?”  
“The Mark of Cain…”  
“Aah…”  
They both grew quiet. It was an odd scene for Cas, suddenly realizing that this woman knew things he would never have guessed she did. Betty pursed her lips. Her hand was still on Cas’ arm and it squeezed lightly. There was great compassion there.  
“Is it…getting better?”  
“Very slowly.”  
The old woman’s smile returned, but she was still very worried. There was a sparkle, though, in her eye that told Cas she was keeping a secret. He focused on her and she pat his arm.  
“You know what they say, Mr. Cas,” she spoke in a tiny voice, “True love can break any curse.”

* * *

  
“Check it out! I bought a horse! A mother fuckin’ horse!”  
Dean returned to the house with a chestnut mare following him and a great, goofy smile on his face. Cas poked his head out of the door and stared.  
“Dean…how…what?!”  
“Ross offered her to me so I said, fuck yes! Isn’t she pretty?”  
Cas came out into the yard and petted the mare’s face. She had a tiny white spot between her eyes.  
 “What do you even know about horses?” Cas asked.  
“Some. I’ll learn. We’ll learn. Wanna go for a ride?”  
“Right now?”  
“Sure. What else are you doing?”  
“That’s true. Let me get dressed.”  
The angel disappeared inside then came back shortly thereafter in his full “cowboy” getup, complete with the black hat. Dean was wearing his brown one (it had started to become his thing).  
“Come.”  
Dean assisted Cas getting up on the horse, then he hopped up. Cas sat behind him.   
“Put your arms around me.”  
Cas complied and Dean had the mare walk around the house. She headed towards the riverbed and then trotted down it.  
“What d’ya think?” asked Dean.  
“I like this.”  
Cas held onto Dean securely and put his head onto his shoulder. It was very nice. Dean took out his pipe and smoked a little while they took the horse to Hucksaw’s main road. Marietta flagged them down.  
“Damn,” Dean cursed under his breath.  
“Dee-an! Ca-as!” the girl called out, waving with a smile. “That’s Ross’s horse, isn’t it?”  
“Yeah,” Dean said.  
“It is,” Cas agreed, much happier than Dean.  
“She’s a beautiful mare,” said Marietta.  
“Uh-huh.”  
“Did you buy her?”  
“Yep.”  
A big puff of smoke came out of Dean’s rather unamused mouth.  
“You two look cute on the horse,” said Marietta. Cas smiled. Dean frowned. “It’s okay,” she continued, “I sorta figured you two out.”  
“Enough,” said Dean.  
“What?”  
“Enough, okay? I don’t have time for you right now.”  
He pulled on the mare’s reigns and had her turn around, leaving Marietta with a blank face. Cas leered at Dean from behind his back.  
“Why are you so rude to her?” he asked.  
“I don’t like her. I don’t…I don’t get why she’s so involved with my damn life!”  
The horse trotted back to the house and Dean jumped off of her. “I need to set her up. I’ll be back.”  
“All right…”  
Cas watched as Dean angrily walked off with the mare. That was the Mark talking. For some reason, Marietta had that effect on him.  
“Hello, Sam.”  
“Hey, Cas. What’s up?”  
“It’s Dean.”  
“…What?”  
“He’s doing well, but this one resident here makes the Mark flare up.”  
“Any idea why? Do they fight?”  
“No. Well, Dean instigates her, but that’s all…”  
“Her? It’s a woman?”  
“Yes.”  
“Er, uh, Cas…you remember what you found in that book, right? About the…cough…sexual release?”  
“Yes.”  
“Maybe you just have to let him kirk out then…ugh…Man, don’t make me say it.”  
“I understand. Thank you, Sam.”  
“Yeah, anytime. Take care.”  
“Goodbye.”  
Cas went upstairs and waited for Dean to come back. It was almost an hour of him sitting on the bed, undressed, with a blade in his hand. When Dean arrived, he was still quite grumpy.  
“Naked?” he asked. “We fuckin’?”  
“I thought so,” said Cas. He opened up his hand and showed the knife. “Perhaps we could try this first?”  
“What are you doing?”   
Cas grasped the blade and thrust it into his own palm.  
“HEY!” Dean shouted. His gut reaction was to come to Cas’ aid, but when the line of red wetness appeared, he changed. The Mark was stinging. “C-Cas, why would you…”  
“Dean, please.”  
Cas balled his hand into a fist and let the blood drip down onto Dean’s leg. He eyed a growing erection behind his pants.  
“Get angry,” Cas whispered. “Think about Marietta, and…and how…and how you don’t like her.”  
“I do like her, Cas,” Dean grunted. His face was red with many emotions. “I like her but I have you.”  
“Is that true?”  
“Y-yeah.”  
“Then I’m in the way?”  
“No!”  
It was painful for Cas to taunt Dean, but it was for the best. He cupped his bloody hand around Dean’s face and leaned in to kiss him.  
“Stop,” Dean whispered. “I don’t want to hurt you.”  
“You can’t.”  
Dean’s jaw tightened. He licked the blood from Cas’ wound and he stared at the angel. Something changed. The Mark was heating up quickly.   
In one move, he threw Cas to the floor. The angel collapsed on his hands and knees, purposefully showing off his ass. Dean pulled down his own fly and exposed a massive boner. Upon seeing it, Cas couldn’t believe it.  
“Damn it!” Dean cursed. He squat over Cas and grabbed him forcefully by the sides. “You’re such a slut! You did that on purpose!”  
Cas said nothing and waited for the Mark to do its thing. To his great surprise, the huge erection was actually painful.  
“Gaaah!” Cas yelped loudly the moment Dean’s dickhead made contact with his hole. It was thicker and considerably longer than usual, but it pressed on without a single care of Cas’ comfort. Dean squeezed Cas’ waist and jammed himself inside, much to the angel’s chagrin, and began to hump animalisticly.  
“D-Deaan!”  
“Slut! Get—haah—get fucked! T-take it!!”  
Dean grunted as he slammed inside Cas mercilessly. His core worked harder than he ever though possibly, plowing and plowing at the hole. Cas struggled to support himself, but then the knot grew at the base of Dean’s cock and he collapsed onto the floor.  
“GAAAAHH!! D-DEEAAN! IT’S---GOOD!!”  
The stretching of his hole now suddenly filled the angel with pleasure. Dean worked so hard, sweating, gasping and even foaming at the mouth a bit. Cas’ dick was even dribbling cum.  
“Deaaaan…”  
“Still a little bit of demon in me, Cas,” Dean whispered through tight teeth and hot breath. The incessant humping continued. “Th-that’s pretty bad, huh? An angel taking it up the ass from a dude with some demon in him…”  
“Dean…”  
“FUCK!”  
All at once, Dean’s cock shot a massive load within Cas. It pumped stream after stream of cum inside him, so much that had it not been for the knot, he would have been expelled backwards.  
“DEAN!”  
Then the room fell silent. Dean’s cock deflated and he plopped onto the floor, releasing Cas from him entirely.  
“C-Cas…”  
The angel turned around and looked at Dean with sadness in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I thought it might help.”  
“Why did you egg it on?”  
“I thought it might help.”  
Dean leaned against the bed. “Did I hurt you?”  
“No. I’m fine. It was…it felt good. I enjoyed it.”  
“Are you sure?”  
“Yes.”  
Cas shuffled in between Dean’s legs and touched his face. He healed his own hand and cleaned the blood away, then put a tiny kiss on Dean’s lips.  
“Oh, Dean, I’m sorry.”  
“I’m the one who’s sorry, babe. That’s seriously not me.”  
“I know. I understand.”  
Dean made a weak smile and put his hand over Cas’. He dragged it down to his bicep so that Cas could touch the old handprint. Cas smiled, too, and kissed him again. In a tiny whisper, he confessed, “I love you, Dean.”  
Dean closed his eyes. “Love you, too.”  
But he opened his eyes again. There was a weird noise in the air, similar to Cas’ true voice, only higher and fainter.   
“The hell is that?” Dean asked. Then he felt a cool sensation rise from the Mark. “Wha?!”  
They both looked to his right arm. Beneath his shirt, a bright blue outline of the Mark of Cain was glowing. Cas stared and Dean opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The noise increased for a moment as did the light of the mark, but then they both clicked off like a light and the room went dark.  
“What the fuck?” Dean whispered.   
“Inspect it,” Cas suggested.  
Dean pulled up his sleeve. He looked at his arm and then to Cas, then back to the arm and once more to the angel.  
“Am I hallucinating?” he asked, his voice almost broken.  
“No, no you aren’t. I see it, too. Or rather, I don’t!”  
There, on Dean’s arm, was nothing.

* * *

  
“So it’s just gone?”  
“Yeah.”  
“How do you feel?”  
“I feel great!”  
“And Cas? How’s Cas?”  
“Awesome! Listen, Sammy, now that I’m back to normal—“  
“Are you sure?”  
“Absolutely!”  
“Positive?”  
“YES ALREADY! God!”  
“Okay, I just have to be completely sure. I guess you’re done with Georgia now, right? And you’ll come back to the bunker and hunt with me?”  
Dean smirked, holding the receiver close to his lips. Cas was sitting in his lap with his head cocked to the side.  
“I thought maybe you could come down here,” said Dean.  
“What?”  
“It’s awesome here. No hunting, no nothing. Just farming and swimming and…well…whatever. I want you to come.”  
“What about the bunker?”  
“It’s not going anywhere, right?”  
Sam laughed. “Well, no, but as the last Men of Letters we should—“  
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. You know where I am. Cas and I will be waiting for you, unless you want to spend the rest of your life geeking out.”  
“I’m not going to—“  
“Bye, Sammy!”  
Dean hung up the phone and gave Cas a big hug. “Awesome,” he whispered.  
“Do you think he’ll come?” asked Cas, running his fingers through Dean’s hair.  
“’Course he will. He’s Sam. I bet he’s packing right now.”  
Cas looked into Dean’s eyes and nodded. “That’s true,” he said, followed by a smile. “I’m glad that the three of us will be together again.”  
“Me, too.”  
“Do you suppose you’ll live the rest of your life like this?”  
“I’d like to. What about you?”  
“Well, in this state I won’t die, so…” Cas pressed his lips to Dean’s forehead, still embracing him.  
“Hm?” Dean asked.  
“So yes, I think I will spend the rest of my life like this.”  
“That’s my boy,” Dean chuckled. “Or uh, what—domestic partner? Angel spouse?”  
Cas flashed a goofy grin. “Housewife.”  
“Right. Housewife. Housewife angel.”  
Cas flipped around so that he was facing Dean now, still sitting in his lap.  
“He-ey,” Dean said with a smirk. He put his hands onto the angel’s waist and rubbed him gently, but Cas wasn’t acting particularly sexy. His hand went onto Dean’s bicep, touching the handprint. Then they kissed, but Dean was a little confused.  
“What’s up?” he asked softly.  
“I’m thinking,” said Cas.  
“’Bout what?”  
“How I’m glad that _this_ scar will never go away.”  
  
 **The End**  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
